


Citrus Rum

by mhunter10



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:45:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhunter10/pseuds/mhunter10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a Sunday and Mickey is disturbed by a tapping at his window. Who should it be, but Ian Gallagher standing there with a stupid grin on his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Citrus Rum

It was a Sunday, and, like most Sundays, there wasn’t a shitload of stuff to do. That is why Mickey lay on his bed after getting piss drunk, and it wasn’t even 2 o’clock. He was in a reasonably peaceful stupor when suddenly he hears an annoying tapping.

"Fuck off!" Mickey slurred, but the tapping continued. "What the hell?" He was mad, determined not to be moved from his comfortable position. He also noticed the slightly lighter tapping of rain, so he put his pillow over his head as a quick solution.

But the tapping only got louder, and it seemed to be coming from his window, which was weird because it could only be reached by standing on a pile of junk that hadn’t been moved in years. In fact, Mickey remembered using it to escape his room on more than one occasion.

He got up slowly and rubbed his eyes, his blurry stare going to the window. And there was Ian, drenched in rain and smiling like a fucking idiot. He undid the lock and shoved the pane up, immediately being hit with the cool air and even louder noise of outside. The screen had long ago been cut out, virtually useless in that neighborhood.

"What the fuck, Gallagher?" Mickey asked.

But all Ian said was, “Pull me in,” as he reached a hand out towards the older boy.

Before Mickey even realized, he was grasping the freckled hand offered him and helping Ian through. He steadied him with a hand on his shoulder when he wobbled a bit on the landing, then quickly took both hands away. He poked his head out the window and looked around, then closed it and moved back to his bed. Ian stood there smiling at him for another minute, before shrugging his backpack off and unzipping it.

"Look what I got." He pulled out two glass bottles, handing them to Mickey so he could take a look.

Mickey eyed the first one and cocked an eyebrow. “‘Citrus Rum’,” he read aloud, then, “…and blackcherry wine?” He looked up at Ian, who just nodded with an even bigger grin. “Where the hell’d you get these?”

Ian shrugged, looking down as he closed his bag and threw it aside. “They were a gift.” He had his back turned as he slid out of his wet coat and wiped his face with the sleeve of his thermal shirt. His shoes squeaked, as he went over to Mickey’s door and pulled it open slightly. He turned his head back and lowered his voice. “Anybody…here?”

Mickey shook his head and Ian closed it firmly. “You still didn’t answer my question…”

"Hm?" Ian had been on his way to the bathroom. He stopped and looked at Mickey.

Mickey sat up on his elbows, watching him watch him. He licked his lips. “What are you doing here?”

Ian looked into the hallway towards the bathroom for a second then back to Mickey. “Thought we could open those bad boys up,” he smiled then disappeared.

Mickey stared at the empty doorway. He picked up the bottles again and looked at them. They were fancy as shit. He wondered if he drank enough of both, he would be able to forget about who would spend that much money on a teenaged boy who could fuck like no one’s business.

When Ian returned, Mickey already had one open and was sipping away at it like it was water. He toed his shoes off in the middle of the floor and dropped his socks on top of them.

"How’s it taste?" He stood in front of Mickey between his legs, looking down at him.

"Like tangerines…" Mickey’s eyes dropped for a second. Ian’s jeans always seem to just stop at the perfect place on his hips. It was ridiculously stupid.

"Tangerines?" He lifted an eyebrow and smirked.

Mickey’s mouth twitched, “And rum.” He held the bottle out and Ian took it, tipping it to his lips and gulping down a lot of it. He grimaced at the sweet burn as it went down. Mickey put his hand out for it back, but Ian set it down on his dresser. “I was drinking that.”

They stared at each other for a moment, hearing the rain picking up outside. The house creaked with the wind.

Ian reached behind his neck and pulled his shirt forward over his head, peeling it from his arms and letting it drop to the floor. He looked at Mickey, whose eyes flicked around before deciding it was safe to settle on the body in front of him.

Mickey really wished he could have another few pulls of the strong alcohol, but then he would have to sit up and bring himself closer to abs and bellybutton and pecks and fucking impossible ‘v’s’ that sunk past jeans like a siren call. So his eyes drank instead, getting intoxicated and heavy. They followed downward until they were met with green.

Ian was on his knees now, slipping fingers into Mickey’s sweats and pulling. Mickey lifted his hips, unable to do or say anything else. He wasn’t wearing any underwear, his legs spreading wider with less restriction. Ian breathed hotly on his inner thighs, squeezing them gently and rubbing them. Mickey sighed when he felt teeth then tongue. Ian looked up at him through blond eyelashes, as he opened his mouth and closed it around Mickey. He swirled his tongue once and pulled off slowly, then did it again and again and then two more times. Mickey’s back arched and he gasped, smacking a hand to the one still on his thigh and gripping tight. He looked down at the top of Ian’s head, as it moved closer then farther from his stomach. He could feel his legs shaking from the sensation of wet-hot movement. Mickey was leaning on one elbow with his head back, exposing his pale neck. Ian made his lips tighter and sucked, watching the vein that ran up it pulse with blood. Mickey moaned deeply, making his adam’s apple vibrate. Mickey tilted his head up and trained his eyes on the redhead, who licked his way down to the underside of his sack and back up to the tip. His mouth stretched over it with slick red lips, and Mickey bit his lip with a devilish look in his eyes. He jerked his hips, pushing deeper in for a second. Ian’s eyes flicked up at him, daring him in an instant. He growled around him, and Mickey let out a shaky whine. He lifted himself up, extending his arm till his hand pressed firmly into the bed, and moved his other hand to the middle of Ian’s head. He stroked there for a bit, feeling the way it bobbed freely, but he wanted to feel it under his control; have it do what he wanted. Ian took his hand away from the base of Mickey and put it beside his thigh. Now Mickey was free to press his heels into the floor and snap his hips, pulling Ian into the motion as he repeated it. As Mickey fucked his mouth, Ian groaned. He relaxed his throat and breathed through his nose hard, liking the rough slide and the feel of fingernails in his scalp. His eyes fixed onto Mickey’s. He was sweating and gritting his teeth, as he jabbed at the back of Ian’s throat. His tank clung to him and his body tensed. He was close. So fucking close. He pumped a few more times, then sat up all the way and grabbed the side of Ian’s face. Ian flattened his tongue and hollowed his cheeks, letting Mickey rock and control him until he couldn’t control himself anymore. Ian pulled almost all the way off, as Mickey came with a long low ‘ah’ and his eyes closed. Ian swallowed most of it, then lifted up to kiss Mickey’s open mouth. They pushed it back and forth between them with their tongues until there was only the taste of tangerines and rum left. Mickey wasn’t sure what made him suddenly okay with tasting himself, but he guessed it had a lot to do with the boy pushing him back roughly and rutting violently to orgasm against his thigh. He bit his neck when he filled his boxers, and Mickey’s eyes watered at the pain.

They lie there for about five minutes, wondering at which point the rain had stopped pounding at the same time as their hearts. Ian moved first, lifting off Mickey and walking to the bathroom. Mickey exhaled slowly and ran a hand through his hair, not sure what the fuck just happened. It was darker in the room, but not so dark that he couldn’t see Ian come back in completely naked and throw his pants on the floor. Mickey took off his tank, then scooted himself the right way on his bed, getting under the thin blanket. Ian picked up the bottle of rum and drank, then handed it to Mickey.

"Thanks." His voice was gruff. He took three giant sips then put it back on his dresser. He took hold of Ian’s arm and pulled him down onto the bed, searching his eyes for something that would explain why he showed up at his window. Ian got between his legs under the blanket and touched him everywhere until they ended up fucking twice, stopping in between to finish off the liquor.

Ian stood on the ground outside Mickey’s window, looking up at him, as he smoked out of it. His hood was up against the rain that had started to pour again, threatening his own lit cigarette.

"Ay, you taking this fancy shit? If my brothers find it…" he didn’t have to finish.

Ian chuckled and looked down the street, blowing smoke through his nose. He looked up at Mickey, who had a relaxed grin on his face.

"Nah. Keep it here," he hefted his backpack a little more onto his shoulder and stuck a hand in his pocket, "…just don’t open it without me."

Mickey’s tongue poked out of his mouth, as he nodded once. He put his cigarette back to his lips and watched Ian turn and walk towards his house.


End file.
